(Untitled)

[taishar_malkier]

Moiraine came to the House of Arch tonight. She listened to their news, with crisp agreement for Nynaeve's furious snappishness about Zuko, and gave her own in very careful terms. She would be spending the night, because tomorrow she planned to meet with a friend to provide aid for her own world. Yes, Nita fights against the Shadow, and Moiraine

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[flame_and_void]

Without much fanfare, Rand walks downstairs into the bar, and stops next to Lan. He nods to the man, knowing he was heard and seen likely before he was even halfway down the steps.

"Evening to you, Lan."

[taishar_malkier]

He was.

It's been a long while since Lan has seen Rand around, though he's kept an eye out. He isn't entirely surprised by that, given what Moiraine said about the bar's unsettling tricks with time, but that doesn't mean he liked it.

With a nod of greeting, "Sheepherder."

[flame_and_void]

"You're without company tonight, it appears."

He's also watching the bar, not nearly with the same attentiveness as Lan, but still the same intent.

Two hawks perched might put good words to the appearance of the pair.

[taishar_malkier]

"For the moment."

Lan glances at him, blue eyes assessing. (And cold. But that's always true, since Moiraine fell through a red stone ter'angreal.)

"It's been some weeks since I've seen you."

[flame_and_void]

"Life keeps one busy watching and moving before being forced to react."

He looks well enough, if still short a hand. And strangely enough, there's a sword peace-knotted at his hip.

[taishar_malkier]

Lan grunts in what seems to be agreement. Or at least acknowledgment.

Some seconds pass, in silent scrutiny of the room.

"What news?"

[flame_and_void]

"Negotiations with the Seanchean are moving forward. They have to, if we're going to be able to have them on our side at Tarmon Gaiden. Fighting on more than one front would be disasterous."

we can die...

"Other than that, I've still not found time to learn how to do forms with this new...impediment."

[taishar_malkier]

Impassively, "Best if they move quickly."

Lan left Rand's army and his own wife for the Borderlands to follow his duty, away from these negotiations and towards the Blight. Instead he's here, cooling his heels with duty and death both on the other side of the front door. Every day he checks it, and every day it's locked.

He says none of that, of course.

"Have you not." There's a sidelong look with that, and a slight lift of Lan's eyebrows.

"Sooner begun, sooner learned, sheepherder." There's an offer in that, under the expressionlessness.

[flame_and_void]

"That it is, Lan."

He doesn't need to reply further, instead walking toward the door leading outside. Once there, he turns to watch Lan, and listen.

There's a sharp difference since that first lesson long ago. This time he's not listening for fun or for training.

He's listening to survive.

[taishar_malkier]

Rand was being taught for survival in the first lesson too. But he didn't know it yet, and he didn't know it in his bones for a long time afterward

[flame_and_void]

Rand's eyes train on Lan as the older veteran talks. He listens closely, and nods here and there to accentuate the salient points.

Then the stance is given.

Without hesitation, he's standing in the high form, thumb having already tugged loose the peace-knot at the blade's hilt, body turned to the side to minimize any frontal striking points the enemy might go for.

"Fortunately, so far as we both can tell, time is something that we actually have some of here."

[taishar_malkier]

Lan grunts in agreement.

Rand is right, and that time is a very useful gift. Perhaps even vital.

This stance is fine; it's the next, with the sword in Rand's hand, that he's expecting to bring problems. "Fan in Silk." The first drawing motion he taught Rand, and the most basic.

[flame_and_void]

One-handed, the sword comes out, and he lets his arms do the work, drawing up and out in one smooth process.

Except that it isn't as smooth, because he doesn't have the second hand to support the weight of the blade once it leaves its sheath. It isn't perfect, not by a long shot, but he manages to move through the motions one-handed, as close as one might otherwise. His eyes narrow, but he manages to hold at the end of the form, blade pointed up and away from the body, hands down low.

[taishar_malkier]

"It could be worse," is all Lan says, blue eyes narrowed and studying.

Could be worse isn't enough for these stakes, and they both know it.

Which is why Lan takes half a step closer to shift Rand's hand on the sword, change the angle of his wrist and guide his other arm into a more balanced position. "Don't think as if your other hand will be there. It has to be balanced all the way through, just with this."

[flame_and_void]

"Guiding, but not supporting." He looks at the hand placement, feels it, soaks it in. "Acting as a counterweight."

He steps back and practices the form again. It's more fluid this time, but it's obvious that it will take many more practices to get to where he used to be.

[taishar_malkier]

"Yes."

Lan steps back, watching impassively as Rand repeats the form again, and then again. Only when he's satisfied with the progression does he give the next form. And then, eventually, the next.

None of them will be perfect today. That's not the goal; the point is for Rand to learn how they should feel, and how to get to that point.